Hospital
by XxPorcelainKnightXx
Summary: "I wake up here everyday in this god damn place- I won't wait here anymore. It's still not quite the way it was, but you promised me this is love... So stay and watch the hospital that's just across the street from your apartment balcony... I'll never ever leave there... I'll never leave..." -Lydia
1. Watch the Hospital

…_Watch the hospital  
That's just across the street  
__From your apartment balcony…_

Stan sighed and allowed his legs to come out from under himself as he landed on a low coffee table, the room adorned in boxes and Styrofoam beans, newspaper, crooked furniture, and so on, barely anything put away and he had spent over four hours taking the basics out and putting it in its proper place, but to no real visual avail- it all appeared exactly as he had it when he first had the assistance of his mom and dad as well as a couple bucks towards Kenny help him move in, boxes everywhere- only now there was so much more of a mess to be dealt with via the newspaper and Styrofoam that had previously remained inside of the boxes.  
He looked around the room some more, the thought of having to do this all by himself making him want to scream if not settle for a groan, but it was his place, so he'd set it accordingly. He couldn't complain really- it was one of the newly built apartments across from the hospital, so everything had that newly built, sturdy feel to it and mostly smelled like fresh paint. There weren't that many tenants considering the small amount of people in South Park, not many wanting to really stay here of their own accord, so the first couple of apartments were cheaper than they should have been as a form of coaxing people to move into them, Stan quick to take them up on their offer once he was old enough to have one, about a year after they were built, himself being eighteen. The apartment accommodated a living room that he was currently residing in, a kitchen attached to it with no real separation aside from different flooring; wood and tiles, a bedroom, and a bathroom that the makers assumed the user wouldn't mind if the door constantly smacked into the toilet when it was opened- not that he really did, it was shitty, but his.

The logic of the apartments was that people were always somehow managing to hurt themselves, yet had to drive for so long to get to the actual damn place that would (supposedly) save them from death, that they ended up dying on their way to said place. In short, it was intended to be convenient. He decided to go get some air from the small little balcony that had been added on in his living room with cheaply made imitations of glass French doors, the third floor being a pretty decent view of the shitty hospital across the way that one was better off self-medicating themselves before going there. He opened the doors with some trouble, cursing under his breath while he rattled the cheap handle painted gold to the point where it dripped onto the wood, finally managing to get it open and decided against shutting it in fear of being locked out of his own apartment.

He leaned over the cold metal railing, thinking that a cigarette would have been nice, but… He promised himself it was more of a casual thing than a stress thing. He swore that he would never have more than a pack a month- but even as he reminded himself of that, his silent self-proclamations were worth little if not nothing at all since it was so easy to lie and deceive oneself- especially if no one else was aware of the habit, so within a few minutes, there was a lit cigarette at his lips that he was drawing toxins out of and blowing the ghostly remnants out a few moments after. He stared at the hospital and swore that the smell of dead bodies and disinfectant and Formaldehyde was wafting over to his place… Honestly, if it was he'd die just like said bodies across the street…  
He groaned and put his head down on the ice-cold metal, the fire in his hand being held over his head. He sat like that for a minute, reveling in the cool feeling that was enough to relax him, putting his cigarette to his lips to feel the heat inside that gave a sinful burn that was just barely enough to be called that, yet such a guilty addiction that it could easily make the person committing the act feel otherwise to the point where the slight high meant nothing and it was just done out of familiarity.

After a moment, he lifted his head up, flicking the ever growing ashes down below to the street, monotonely noting the same building that had been there prior to his standing rest. He made note of the red brick that was crumbling away. He made note of the fogged windows that were darkened with age among other things. He made note of a boy who was climbing out of- WAIT WHAT?! He dropped his cigarette on the ground three stories below himself, his eyes growing wide as his hand and jaw went slack. He watched, just to make sure that he really wasn't… He looked thin and small to the point where he could see why he would want to do something like that… And he was most definitely climbing out of the hospital window. He ran downstairs as fast as his legs could take him, already feeling like by sitting there for a couple extra seconds for confirmation would be those few seconds required to get the boy killed due to his non-willingness to act. He wanted to be wrong, but he'd hate to be the one that looked stupid and overreacted when that wasn't what was happening, yet... It was that kind of selfish mentality that was the reason why a fragile boy was about to fall to his death- if not take a few moments longer than it should have, the fall taking a few moments to actually kill him. He darted across the street, safely assuming of his own chagrin that no one rarely passed by these streets since it was so out of the way, and assumed correctly, no issue to be had.

He looked up to make sure that he hadn't jumped yet, if he had he would have ran inside quicker than any shitty football game would have ever made him, said boys legs dangling from the edge, the rest of his leaning inside of the room. He screamed up at him with a volume he didn't know he was capable of, it instantly making his throat raw. "_**HEY**_!" The boy instantly allowing the rest of himself come into view, looking down at him with confused eyes, head tipped, then those same eyes grew wide and he shrieked and fell, Stan never more grateful for catching as many footballs as he had since elementary school, the boy being so much more of an easy target, his sudden weight however, making him land flat on his ass. He groaned for the third time within the past hour and sat up, the boy with his eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god, dude are you okay?!" He instantly panicked. He could have landed wrong or not have caught all of him or-

He shot up with the kid in his arms, not giving him a moment to reply before hauling him inside of the hospital, mortified of him being hurt, a stuttered "H-Hey!" coming from the barely noticeable weight in his arms. Clearly, he wasn't very healthy, and since he had never seen him before, assumingly for a long time- that or had just moved into South Park- but considering that made no sense to do so since there were much better hospitals, even in the next town over compared to this one. Either way, he was new here- or new to Stan, anyhow. "Excuse me!" He called eagerly to the woman at the front desk. She looked up from filing her nails, then looked like she had just pissed herself. "What are you doing outside of your room?!" She instantly ran to a phone and called for a doctor by name. "He was hanging out of the window and fell- I was worried he was going to jump either way but, I caught him- b-but I'm still worried he may be hurt or something!"

She whipped around, looking as utterly mortified as a person with wide eyes and puckered lips could look. "I wasn't going to jump, I do it all the time!" He protested, crossing his arms after throwing them into the air with a huff. "You _WHAT_?!" She hissed at him, Stan looking down at him with wide-eyed horror. The boy in his arms groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. "…I usually sit on the ledge and read books- clearly I don't do it often since you or _her _never catch me." He spat back, a doctor running into the room a few minutes later. "Oh my god, are you okay?" He asked, snatching the fragile ginger from Stan, albeit not to gently. "You know you're not even supposed to get out of bed- and for Christ sake it's supposed to snow later!"  
He rolled his eyes and they landed on Stan, staring at him with a raised eyebrow once the motion was finished. "…What was _he_ doing here anyway?" The doctor paused in his actions and fussing for a moment, as well as the desk clerk, and both looked over at Stan with questioning looks. "…Um, I live across the street now and was hanging out on the balcony when I saw him…" He replied, his aquatic eyes meeting ones that were vast in their greenery and held a certain lushness of life to them. "Oh I keep forgetting those are there. I swear they're going to take_ forever_ to get used to." Stan jumped a bit, looking over at her, then back at the ginger haired boy in the doctor's arms. "H-Huh? Oh, y-yeah…"

It was amazing how small a person could be… He had black rings lining the underside of his emerald with topaz speckled eyes and thick, wild, bright ginger hair that only highlighted everything else about him, nose adorned in faint freckles while the rest of him was so pale he was translucent in extremely thin-skinned areas like his wrists and parts of his neck, the rest of him obviously being thin-skinned compared to most anyways. He looked like if you held him wrong, his bones were sure to be so brittle they'd snap with even the slightest pressure applied. He had tape on his wrists like ones used to hold IV's, and the blue gown not helping physique any, if not looking too overly large on him, even then it appeared to be the smallest size they had since they shouldn't have been that incompetent. "Anyways, you are going back to your room _immediately_ and your mother will most certainly be hearing about this escapade." The doctor said to him if not in a tone that could have been less cruel. He sighed, in a mannerism that was silent defeat, and let himself be carried back through a large set of double doors.

"…Well jeeze." Stan said, if a lack for nothing else to say. "I kind of feel bad for him." The desk clerk commented. "His been here since he was born after all…" So that explained why Stan had never seen him before. "Really? Man that's gotta suck. What's he got?" Stan asked, leaning against the counter. "Well a number of things, and put together don't help any- things like Anemia, diabetes, being born three and a half months early- making his immune system naturally weak and it just stuck to the poor thing- severe asthma- it's a list, and those are only the basics." Stan's eyes remained on the door that he had been taken through. "Oh wow…" It then occurred to him that he was asking about his condition before asking about him. "…So, what was his name again?" He hoped she was just as dense as the rest of the adults in this town to think she had already let it slip if not just not care and tell him. "Kyle." She replied simply. "Uh-huh…" Stan said, glancing over at her, then resuming his stare with the inanimate object. "…So does anyone come to visit him at all- I mean, since he's been here since he was a baby and all- he's how old?" She looked up at him with a quizzically raised eyebrow.

"…Yes, his family does, no friends since there probably aren't any to be had, and he's 18 in May- and in case you have any more questions, his blood type is AB negative, he's Jewish, loves to read in his spare time- if has nothing better to do, seems to like philosophy if not _questioning_ everyone's every single move around him, has played guitar pretty decently on occasion via request of his little brother, is probably up there hacking into our files on his computer, teaches any of the little kids who come here pig-Latin, likes to wear a green ushanka when he's feeling _particularly_ well, and _yes_, he's _single_."

Stan's face instantly turned red and he felt bile rise up in the back of his throat with the last comment. He hadn't asked for all of that information, regardless of his curiosity wanting it or not, the greedy whore it was... But the last one was a bit uncalled for if not obvious if one inferred enough from the fact of how long he had been there as well as social relations. "I'm sure you can make up an excuse to go see him now if you'd like." She offered. "You know, being a teenage boy and all- and I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company." He swallowed hard, forcing the sick feeling back down into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. "Don't I have to sign in or something?" She produced a clipboard, not looking at him while she resumed filing her nails. He signed his name in the designated space as well as who he was seeing- sighing when he could only put his first name. Well… There couldn't have been that many Kyle's in one hospital right? And even if that were true, he had had an incident with a specific one, so the nurse could fill it in or something.

"Floor?" He asked, sliding it back towards her in a hope that she'd see the missing last name and fix it. "307- third floor, hun." He nodded to her while she refused to acknowledge the clipboard in favor of her manicure, Stan wandering to where he was told, getting slightly lost if not having to walk around the entire floor once before finding his destination. The door was ajar, and as he went to go knock on it, he heard talking. "…To get you a psychiatrist."  
"I don't _need_ a damn psychiatrist. At the very least since it's clearly _impossible_ for me to ever get out of this room, yet alone to even piss, that you could at least get me more books- do you even know how many times I've read the Great Gatsby this week?" There was a snippy tone in the kid's voice, the doctor sighing after his comment. "Yes, I'm aware- but remember what happened the last time we tried that?"  
"I was _eight_!" He countered.

Stan didn't mean to eavesdrop- he really didn't. But there wasn't ever really much to do around a shitty town like this- or so that was his excuse. Yes he was good at those. In all honesty, the boy had struck him if not all to literally when he fell out of his window and into his arms, making him curious as to why someone would be hanging out of their window in the first place, yet alone feel so miserable that they'd try to kill themselves. If that was the case, contrary to his earlier protestings, he wanted to be able to change his mind, if not make life a bit more bearable for the boy behind the door. He cleared his throat and knocked, feeling it would be better to make his presence known than to listen in any longer. The doctor stopped mid-sentence, looking over at him, a small smile forming. "Well look at that? Maybe it was a good thing you tried to jump out of your windo-"  
"I DIDN'T JUMP!" He countered harshly as Stan wandered in a bit closer, the doctor sighing.

"…Well, anyways, at least you'll have someone new to talk to for a while." The boy sighed and narrowed his eyes at the floor. "…Don't even bother. You know he'll just end up like everyone else." The doctor gave him a sorrowful look while Stan looked confused. "Everyone else?" His eyes were meet with a glare- a certain spark to his fields, giving the entire forest a raging fire. "…Anyone else who's ever been in this hospital for whatever reason. Sick, community service," He exemplified, looking over dully at a wall. "Once their done with whatever it is they came here to do… They never come back." He looked over at him with a bit of sorrow and regret, probably already seeing everyone who had left him in his shadow. Stan shrugged. "…Well, you know it'd be kind of hard to get away from you since I kind of live across the street- like, to the point where if I go hang out in the balcony I can see you. I'm pretty sure the same is for you if you felt like looking." He looked at him a bit meekly, if not anything less than the fire being put out ever so slightly.

He _did_ want someone to talk to… Someone his age about stupid little things really. Ask stupid little questions about a world he had lived in all of his life, yet never managed to actually get to see. To have similar likes with- To do _anything_ with really. He was desperate, but not yet willing for his new hope to be doused like everyone else before him. So, he decided he'd give him a chance- the moment he fucked up he'd cull the bitch.

"…Kyle." He introduced. Stan gave him a warm smile while the doctor silently wiggled his way out of the room, Stan resuming his spot in the edge of the bed. "Stan." He replied simply.


	2. All I See Scares Me And No One Knows It

_So I've been sleeping with this silence in my mind  
And all I see scares me  
And no one knows it, but [s]he, [s]he saved me_

…Finally. He _finally _managed to get the living room decent. Honestly, he would have started with his bedroom or the kitchen, but… Some part of himself felt obligated to set up the living room fist since it would be what glimpses of his apartment Kyle would be getting to see. However, it really didn't matter since he was aware of him just moving in, so it was nothing more than a personal complex he had developed with trying to impress the boy and get on his good side. After the little incident that was to be had with the window, Stan had been going eat lunch with him every day for a week now, and if school had prohibited that, he'd come whenever he was available and bring work to do while Kyle read or just sat there watching him work, making small talk the entire time, but in spite of being in a hospital for his entire life, he was amazing at school work. Stan had honestly considered just going over and having him assist with it, but then realized that wasn't fair.

"…So what are you studying for?" Kyle had managed to ask him during a Friday. Stan looked up from his papers, the scowl he had directed towards his work melting into a wide-eyed null. "Hn? Oh, um… Well I'm mostly trying to get these two years of basic shit out of the way, then worry about it." His reply allowed for easy gracings of confusion on the gingers face. "So you don't know what you want to be yet?" He shrugged. "I kinda… Just didn't really care much. I just want to be done with school already… I think I may even just drop it after I'm done with this year- maybe just do the two just to say I did- and go to a trade school or something. Tools were always interesting to me as a kid." He nodded slightly to his answer, studying him for a minute. "…What about you? What would you of wanted to do?" He was taken a bit aback by the question. It wasn't what are you going to do, but what would you have wanted to do? He was asking about dreams, not the reality of a stark white room and constant IV tubes… "…Well… My dad's a lawyer, but I think trying to follow after him would have just stressed me out… I think psychology and sociology are interesting though- but um… You probably don't think so, huh? I'll stop before I get all boring and stuff." Stan shook his head, putting his work aside on the small table housing Kyle's laptop, in favor of the conversation. "No, you're fine." Kyle bit his lip and looked away from him.

"….Well… It just interests me- why people do what they do. I mean- is it okay if I use you for an example?" Stan nodded, not verbally interrupting. "Well I just think that, on their own, people are more prone to being honest with themselves. Like, on your own you thought I was trying to jump out of a window, and also on your own you tried to save me. But in a group, you may not have noticed, or if you had, you may have just sat there and watched- your mentality would have changed. But for some people, they would have done that regardless of other people being there. For whatever reason, most people sit there and think someone else is going to do something about it. But at the same time I also kind of feel like looking at everyone like that just confuses me and I end up looking at people singularly instead of as a whole- but it'd be kind of weird to go to a hospital bedside to see your psychologist, so…" He managed to finish, giving a weak laugh out of nervousness as well as a dislike for his own rant and worrying he put Stan off a bit. Stan gave him a smile on the same level, but it was warm instead of meak.

"Do you do that with all of your books?" He had a shelf in his room to the left of his bed, a guitar on a stand in the corner, small table to his right for his computer among other small things, medical equipment mostly to the right as well. He flushed a bit, never realizing how transparent he really was- however, that was only a simple claim, not actually to be proven considering he was only interacting with his family and Stan. "…To me, it's kind of like a story within a story. I read it once, then read it again and think about it like that- I mean I've got nothing better to d- er, _had_ nothing better to do." Stan nodded. "That's cool." He wanted to ask if he was actually going to do something, but he felt it may have been a rude question considering… So he kept his mouth shut in spite of his whorish curiosity. "So… Tools, huh?" He asked, licking his lips with a smirk as he pursed them to more or less hide it with a bit of lackless care as to actually doing so. Stan chuckled. "Oh, yes. With the _vriiiiiiiiiiiiim_- and the _wreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_e!" Kyle chuckled at his imitation of the tool sounds. "Totally up my alley." He raised an eyebrow, the smirk still gracing his features. "Your alley, huh? What's it like in there?"

"Wanna find out, do you?" Stan retorted, wiggling his eyebrows, making him laugh again, the laugh turning into a horrid cough. Stan was out of his chair in a matter of minutes, fingers hovering over him worriedly, wanting to do something but not wanting to touch and hurt him. Kyle waved him away, shaking his head slightly between his fit of coughs, raising his arms in the air and calming down a bit, then let them drop. Stan gave him a confused look. "…Helps in air flow." Stan nodded and sat back down, watching his bright red face fade back into its normal pale color. "…Sorry…" Kyle shook his head with more vigor this time. "Don't be. I'd much rather hack a lung out over laughing too hard then just out of being sick all the time." Regardless of his protests, Stan still felt guilty if not like a nurse would come running in and kick him out for doing so. "So, anyways, what were we talking about?"

"...Tools, homework." Stan lied, and they both knew it. "Oh really?" Kyle asked, cocking his head to the side for a moment, a smirk residing on his features. "Yup." Stan gave him a smirk in return and Kyle chuckled lightly. "…Alright then."

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

"…Study group?" Stan asked, walking to his car with Wendy in tow, and on and off girlfriend since grade school. He had decided that starting his collage year, if they weren't together, then he wouldn't go out with her again, and if they were and broke up, it would stay that way. He was tired, so very tired of her games… So since he wasn't with her at the beginning of the semester, he was no longer going to date her. "Yup! I think it'd be good to start one! The earlier the better- that also gives it more time to circulate via mouth! So if people ever need help they can just drop in or something." Stan unlocked the door to his Chevrolet Aveo that had cost him a pretty penny but was cheap in terms of cars. "Well when and where would we do this?" He prompted, opening the back door and putting some of his things inside, listening to her while he fixed a few of his things. "Well probably my house- or someone with a decent amount of space." He shut the door. "Wendy you're not using my apartment." He said, cutting right to the point. He knew what she wanted. "What? N-No that's not-"  
"It's out of the way; nice and quiet. It's mine: no parents to bug you. Near the hospital in case someone decides to get trashed or fucked up or some shit. Like I said: No."

"Oh come on, Stan! Please?" She asked, grabbing on his arm and holding it close to her chest. He felt his throat get slick and the taste of his saliva became noticeable. He knew exactly what her chest felt like- clothed or bare, didn't matter. Hell he knew what everything felt like and that only made it worse when she would do things like this. "…W-Wendy I haven't even moved in all the way yet! Tons of my shit is still in boxes!" He tried to explain, coming up with any excuse he possibly could. "Assistance compensation!" She countered, being the negotiator she always was. "N-No!" He managed to reply, still trying desperately to hold his ground, but knowing her, she'd simply plow up from beneath him and take it instead of trying to pull it her way or get him to move… "Oh come on, Stan! This could be good for you in the long run- I know you suck at a lot of your classes, same as you did in high-school!" He pried his arm from her death trap of a grip, hand grazing her chest by accident, his face turning into a fire hot mess and he felt like he was going to vomit. How me managed to actually have sex with her without it turning into something more disgusting was beyond anyone really.

"Wendy-" His tone was too harsh. He sighed and calmed himself down a bit. "…Listen, I shouldn't have to give you a list of excuses as to why- It's my place and I can do what I want with it and it's that simple. If I say no, then take that for an answer. Besides… I've already kinda-sorta got someone helping me with my work." She raised an eyebrow. "Kinda-sorta?" She questioned. "It doesn't matter, if I need help _that_ desperately, I'll call you!" He quipped in order to get her to shut up about it, getting into his car and shutting the door harder than he had meant to. But he knew that if he really honestly did, he'd break down and ask Kyle to help him before he'd go to her- which was odd considering who he knew for longer, but he found himself more comfortable around him instead of her…

"…Now do you still need a ride home or not?"

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

Stan shut the door behind himself and sighed, looking around his apartment which was basically a housing of a conjunction boxes. At least his mom was good with putting what was supposed to go where in that room when she helped… Maybe he should call her later… He decided to take a break before cleaning up and working on homework, either thought not appealing to him, feeling a bit drained from the argument then car ride with Wendy. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from off of the table- after all if you don't have them on person then you can't smoke them, simple- and went out to the balcony to light one up. He had it in his mouth, lighter poised and carrying it's small torch to ignite his small death, hands cupped to stop the wind from its valiant plight of saving him from it- but then stopped when he noticed a window open in the hospital across the street, a touch of bright fire orange barely visible from where he was.

He put the cigarette back into the box and dropped them on the table, grabbing his house keys and locking the door, heading across the street.

He knocked on the door twice with a slight rap, the boy in his usual spot in his usual bed looking up at him and instantly closing the book he was reading- not even bothering to mark the page- giving him a wide smile. "Hi!" Stan wandered over and grabbed a nearby chair and turned it so the back was facing Kyle's bedside while he straddled it. "Hey." He said, giving him a smile. "So how was your day?" He knew by this simple question- no, better yet the simple action, whether it was going over here in the first place or simply leaving his work at home, he knew he wasn't going to do it. He knew, even if he had brought it, he would of set it aside and would of given the ginger his undivided attention, favoring their conversations more than he had anything in a long while. "Nothing special- sorry for not being able to stop by during lunch again."

"It's okay- I figured you'd just be coming later like you usually do is all."

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

Stan groaned loudly into his pillow. He had left around eleven, the nurses already so used to him that they forgot to tell him that visiting hours were over. Kyle had feigned pouting, Stan giving his word to come see him tomorrow and telling him he should get some rest, Kyle grabbing for his hand and making him verbally promise. Stan had stopped and realized despite of their games and feigned passes at one another, and even if it was said in a tone that one would hear from a teasing child, Stan knew Kyle honestly wanted him to come back as often as possible… And he wanted to do that for him. It could be blamed on obligator matters. It could be blamed on feeling bad for him. It could be blamed on wanted to make sure he didn't go and kill himself like he thought he had. It could be blamed on anything really, but what actually went and took responsibility as to why he went to see him was simply that he wanted to- he liked Kyle and his company.

He sighed ad turned over. Homework wasn't the issue really, he could do that without much issue, but… It was actually getting around to doing it. He was completely capable, but life was quick to throw him many a distraction that he was quick to catch like the ball in his sport and would run with it for miles before realizing the goal was in the opposite direction. Well, here's to a sleepless night… At least he had unpacked the coffee pot- god fucking damn it the filters were still packed away…

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

Stan ended up unpacking his entire kitchen and putting everything away. The basics had been out yes, but only those. There was a box specifically and strategically packed with a single cup, mug, bowl, plate, fork, spoon, knife, pot with its lid, and coffee pot, just for the move. It was a suggestion made by his mother, and a good one- if he'd had the damn filters with the coffee pot. The kitchen was mostly decent, a few boxes still in need of being put up, but those could wait- now he wanted to get that sleep for an hour and a half before he had to go to class… Or he could go see if Kyle was awake it was only… He glanced over towards the clock on the stove, the numbers reading "8:17".

Kyle or sleep?

Kyle sounded better- he considered making a quick drive to get some breakfast for the two of them, and before the thought had even been finished or a decision made, he found his car keys in his hand while he shut the door behind him. He picked up some doughnuts and wandered into the hospital, the smell making him sick as always, the desk clerk being the same one as when Kyle fell out of the window, waving him in while she filled out the clipboard for him since it was obvious whom he was coming to see- he left her a doughnut.

He went to the room and knocked on the door- but upon seeing him in bed remembered one of the things the nurse had listed to him and almost through the doughnuts out of the window. How much sugar could diabetics have? How much were in the doughnuts he had just bought? Was there a label on the box? God damn it of course not… Fuck did he forget to buy a plain one? However, it was already too late and Kyle had noticed him, sitting up and giving him a smile, adjusting the pillows behind him. "Well you're here early." He said, still sounding groggy, clearly haven just woken up, his hair more of a mess somehow than it usually was. He yawned, putting his hand over his mouth, but stopped mid-action. "…Are those doughnuts?" He asked, wide-eyed and nibbling at his bottom lip to stop the drool, his index finger residing ever so gently on his lower lip from the yawn, almost making him appear question them if not in a positive manner.  
"Er… Yeah. You can eat these right?" He nodded eagerly and patted the edge of the bed as an offer for Stan, migrating himself with a couple of bounces to the other side of the bed, while Stan wandered over with second guesses a million times over in his head. He sat down and opened the box for him, then held them back. "Better question- will I get in trouble for giving you these?" Kyle sucked his teeth and reached over for one. "Doesn't matter, you brought one for me, so it's too late, I've already seen them- now gimmie." Stan held them over his head while Kyle got on his knees to give himself more leverage, but to no avail, having to lean onto Stan a bit just to come close to them.

"Oh my lord- You act like by giving me one I'm gonna die!" He said, mushing Stan's face while sitting back down on his hind legs, making the older teen's expression drop into a mixture of regretful horror, making the younger one realize his misstep in word choice. Still… That meant that he cared enough about him to get worried. He relaxed and explained things to him so there wouldn't be an issue. "I'll just need to tell the doctors so I can get the right amount of insulin in me, no biggy." He said, waving his hand in a flittered motion. "They just don't like having to give me tons of it- that being the only reason why they'd be mad- but I'm used to it. Besides, I haven't had something like that in a long time, I'm sure they'll get over it if not be a little happy for me."

…Stan sighed and relented from his withholding and let him see the contents of the box, Kyle being the little shit he was picked the one with the most frosting _and_ filling. "…Seriously, dude?" He shrugged and bit into it, humming and letting his eyes roll into the back of his head, letting the sugar melt in his mouth for a moment before chewing and swallowing, with the reply of, "Like they say "Go big or go home"- I'm already home, so let's make it big." He said, flashing him a smile. Home… That broke his heart. This place that smelled like disinfectant and was boring as hell was his _home_. He'd never had a bedroom, or gotten to play sports, or even gone outside for that matter… He'd never gotten to take a class in a boiling hot class room, or got to think that that girl from the other class was cute, or go on a date. He never got to just call for his mom from upstairs and have her come up for something stupid he needed. He never got to argue with that one douche bag who mouthed off to him or a friend. He never got to go shopping with his mom or help his dad build something. He never got to mess around in the kitchen and try making new foods. He never got to have sleepovers with other kids, or go to their birthday parties. He never got to have the childhood he should have had, yet alone…

"…You can have another one if you want." He offered, sitting against the head of the bed with him, biting into his own doughnut, booted foot resting on his bed sheets while the other one hung off of the edge. "But a _plainer_ one!" He added. Kyle nodded enthusiastically while dripping filling onto his sheets. "Shit- ah fuck it I needed new ones today anyways… That and your muddy boot is all over it." Stan dropped his foot off of the bed, making Kyle laugh at him. "Sorry…" He got up and felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at the sickly boy munching on his sweets and staring straight ahead as if he hadn't done anything with no readable expression on his face, his hand still clinging to his jacket sleeve being the only proof that he had done anything. Stan sat back down silently, putting his food down on top of the box and removing his shoes before putting his feet back onto the bed and resuming nibbling on his sugar-high with Kyle…

…Who was still holding onto the sleeve of his jacket.

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

He hadn't meant to fall asleep- really he hadn't. But he was just so tired and yes, Kyle was small, but small in a way that was comfortable to him. They both had finished two doughnuts a piece, the box still housing a few more for later, Stan making small talk with Kyle per their usual with the occasional quipped banter they liked to exchange if not more a bit tired on either end, so the talk was lighter and shorter than normal, eventually dimming down to nothing and Stan fell asleep. He had meant to just eat breakfast with him them go to class but… If he had already fallen asleep, he was sure to get himself killed driving being that tired. Kyle hadn't slept much either- he had opted for staying on his laptop for a couple of hours, wanting to sleep till around noon so that way when he woke up, Stan would have possibly come to see him from then on, and the thought made him realize he had contorted his normal schedule to see his new friend.  
After a while, there was no conversation from Stan, and he was mostly still, and he looked up at him to find him asleep. He smile, a slight laugh escaping him while he took his hat off of his head and put it on the small table. He inched down a bit and decided he'd go to sleep as well- after all, he had only opted to go to sleep two hours before Stan had shown up, and his body had disagreed with him and kept him half-awake for those two hours, making him wake up once someone was outside of his door. He yawned and curled up on his side facing Stan, nuzzling into him without actually touching him.

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

"Does someone want to explain to me who's in the bed with my boy?!"  
"Mrs. Broflovski, please calm down, your overreacting."  
"_OVERREACTING_!? There is a _complete stranger_ in my son's bed asleep and _I'm_ overreacting?!" Kyle groaned and stole a pillow from behind Stan's back and threw it over his head. Even out in the hallway, his mother was a boisterous as always… Stan looked around confused and stretched then slid off the bed, the shock jolting him awake while Kyle snickered at him from under the pillow. "…I'm pushing you off of the bed, stop laughing." He wined in protest to this, but offered his arm off of the side of the bed to help him up. Stan gently took it, using most of his own body to help himself up instead of Kyle. He stood up and stretched, then looked over at the clock and cursed.

"…Well I missed some of my classes." Kyle removed the pillow from his face, just enough to look at him, and apologized. "Nah, don't be, it's not your fault." Kyle sat up and yawned. "Kind of is… I mean, I made you take your shoes off and lay with me, and then I didn't wake you up after you fell asleep." Stan shrugged. "Hey, with a guy as sexy as me, who wouldn't?" Kyle chuckled at him, rolling his eyes, then stopped and noticed the food. "You may want to hide that." He said, pointing to the box. Stan looked at him confused- the woman in the hallway groaning loudly before storming into the room. "_WHO ARE YOU_!?" She hissed at Stan in a Jersey accent, making him basically jump out of his skin. "S-Sheila, calm down honey." The man with her tried, putting a hand on her shoulder, Stan safely assuming it was her husband or something like that. Kyle groaned again and tossed a pillow up into the air, letting it land on his face. "Kyle's got a boyfriend~" Came a sing-song voice from the door way. Sheila was ranting questions at Stan as if she was a interrogator for the government, the man with her trying to calm her still. "Ike, I swear to god I will throw this at you- who I let in my butt is none of your business." Ike snickered at his joke and wandered in. "So is he?" Kyle sat up and shook his head. "Are you gonna do the thing?" He asked, instantly getting side tracked. "Want me to do the thing?" Kyle offered to him, a wide smirk growing on his face. "Do the thing!" Ike said, overly eager, vibrating in place. Stan was completely at as loss as to what "the thing" was…

Kyle shrugged, looking bored- then screamed at the top of his lungs, the tone and pitch much more feminine that it should have been, piercing everyone's eardrums while the little boy already had pre-covered his ears. Sheila instantly forgot about Stan and was turned to her son within moments. "Kyle you know you're not supposed to do that! You could have an asthma attack or-"  
"Mom, this is Stan, Stan, this over protective woman is my mom, that man is my father, and that's my little brother Ike- everyone be nice and say hello to Stan, Stan say hello to my psychotic family." Kyle cut in, not really caring for the same lecture for who knows what number this was. Dare he even breathe wrong and she was on his case. "_Kyle_!" His mother chided. He couldn't hold in a laugh while everyone looked lost- aside from his mother, who looked offended. Stan broke out of the awkward interruptions lingering affects first. "U-Um… Hi, I'm Stanly Marsh, nice to meet you…" He offered, Kyle's dad following. "Well nice to meet you Stanly." He said with a nod.

"So'd you two have sex yet?"  
"_IKE_." Kyle said through clenched teeth. "What? No? Too many nurses around- or is your boyfriend not into that kinda thing?" Kyle threw a pillow at him, the little boy easily ducking. "Ike Broflovski! You are in so much trouble when you get home for saying that to your brother, young man!" His mother said, ready to blow a fuse. "Aw, mom! I was kiddi- KYLE HAD DOUGHNUTS WITH HIS BOYFRIEND!" Ike announced to everyone present in the room, pointing accusingly at the box, glad to have something take all of his mother's negative energy off of himself. "what, _What_, _**WHAT**_?!"  
"Tooooold youuuuu…" Kyle sang to Stan, looking over at the floor for lack of something better. "Oh my gawd call the doctor!" She said, shooing her husband from the room to call one, who did as he was told. "…Mom, it was just a doughnut- ortwo- relax!" He more or less mumbled the interjection and said it quickly, almost as if it was one word in hopes of her not hearing it. "TWO?! Oh my gawd- Do you even know what my son is sick with?! Do you think it's just okay to bring him food like that?!"  
"Mom! Stan I am so sorr-"  
"Do you want him to _die_?!" It was too much… Stan liked Kyle, and no, he didn't want him to die. The yelling and the apologizing and the accusing and everyone was trying to talk over everyone else and it was so chaotic that he just…

Stan threw up all over the floor.

_**- - - - -South Park- - - - -**_

"Heeeeey, yoouuuuu~" Stan looked up from the floor, jumping off the examining table. He had been put in there after throwing up just to make sure he was alright in spite of him insisting he had just gotten nervous and was prone to it. "K-Kyle I didn't know you were allowed out of your room!" He was in a wheelchair and hauling around an IV drip, but out of his room no less. "I'm not- but I pitched a fit to the doctors after explaining our situation to my mom, so she also started pitching a fit on my behalf and let me move around so long as I took my meds before I did." He answered, wheeling himself in place. "But wouldn't they have someone, like, push you or something?" Kyle shrugged. "If you're sick they'll do anything to get you to calm down." He said with a smirk. Stan just not realized how devious Kyle was. He did things like that on purpose to get what he wanted, and from what he had seen didn't use it to the point where he was spoiled. "So are you okay? I know my mom can be a major bitch if you let her, but she's nice once you get around that."

"Y-Yeah I just… Whenever I get really, really nervous I hurl." He replied, looking anxiously at the wall to his left. "Did they give you something to clean your mouth out?" He shook his head and Kyle groaned, rolling over to a pager. "Hey, it's me. I've got some food in my room and I'm in 204 right now, can you bring that in here?" There was a pause. "…Kyle we can't bring you any food you're not supposed to have- and why aren't you in your room?"  
"It's not for me and because I pitched a fit and I'll throw another one if my friend doesn't get the taste of puke out of his mouth soon, please and thank you." There was a sigh from the other end. "Alright, fine- by the way, it's almost noon, did you take your medicine?" Kyle pushed the button and spoke into the panel on the wall. "No, didn't have lunch either- I was asleep." Another pause. "Alright I'll bring you something." …And that was the end of it. "Just like dialing room service." He cooed, making Stan laugh. "If you don't mind me asking, how many times a day do you have to take different medicines?" Kyle shook his head. "I don't mind- and I have to take insulin every time after I eat, five pills in the morning, three around now, then the ones you saw me take when you stayed late- don't even get me started on the weekly tests. And this stupid thing," He said, moving the IV. "Is supposed to be on my almost all of the time." Stan leaned against the examination table. "Man, that's gotta suck!" Kyle scoffed and rolled his eyes. "_Tell me about it_!"

"…Well okay, see, your ridiculously sick and they give you powdered horse dicks to choke down with some water- thus the name "hose pill"- and-" Kyle choked out some laughter, eventually gagging himself on it, Stan dropping to his knees and rubbing his back, for some reason making him laugh harder. "Dude, relax, you're gonna cough up both your lungs at this rate- It wasn't even that funny." He was glad he was happy, but no need for him to die over it. Kyle shook his head and concentrated on breathing, Stan noticing slight hissing noises coming from him. "…No it's just… People make such a big deal over me being sick it's like this huge elephant in the room or something…"  
"With its big balls in your face?" Kyle chuckled, trying to stay calm so he wouldn't worry Stan. "Completely. But like, they make it this big deal! Like, okay I'm sick, hurray. May as well put "you survived another year" on my birthday cake or something." He mumbled. "…I heard it's in May- I'll do it." Stan said, trying to keep his spirits up- but hopefully not too high. If that were the case, he'd be responsible for catching him again since he couldn't hold his own for very long. Kyle laughed in a way that resembled a sneeze. "Make it like, zombie themed or something." Stan was honestly going to do it- he silently promised himself he would. "Totally." He said, giving him a crooked grin.

"…But my point is, I guess it was more a relieved laugh than anything. You asked about it, then were like "okay great, who the hell cares?" Like, I've got to sit there every day all by myself and think that it's a bad thing to be sick and I just… They make it seem like if I go outside, I'm gonna die and it makes me wonder if that's really true and it terrifies me…!" He admitted to him. Stan gave him an apologetic look. It must have been hell… Still being so, even. To have a mother like that who won't even let you have a damn doughnut yet alone go outside. It was no wonder why he had decided to sit on his window sill- it was the closest he was ever going to get to going outside… "And I guess… That's kind of something I'd been looking for, really… For someone to not care, but still…"

Stan flicked his forehead. "You're being a sap- hey since you're up and about wanna get wheeled down the hallway like a racecar?" He offered with a wide smile.

"Fuck yes!" He jeered, face instantly lighting up.


	3. I'll Never Ever Leave There

_I'll never ever leave there  
I'll never leave…_

…No matter what anyone says, or how they describe it, being sick is never pretty, or appealing. The person lying there with their porcelain skin that shows through like translucent flays of life over their barely pulsing veins of darkened colors… While their lungs gasp at air like it's doing nothing for them while their heart races on a track with no end in sight, just desperately searching for something it needs while the orifices that provide such needs are congested and diluted while the owner desperately pleads with a raw throat for something as simple as water…

…No. That's never pretty. It's disgusting. Human bodies are truly disgusting. They're alive and already giving off smells and sounds of the dead. Being sick is nothing but shit and piss and blood and vomit a desperate need for air and the body unwilling to listen to the master while they shake and care barely hold themselves over the toilet bowl while their stomach churns and clenches, forcing an acid up through them until it's expelled with a disgusting, wet noise, all the while the strength that holds your bowls under control has failed you while you sit there desperately sobbing and just wanting it to stop. You want help, so desperately you would beg and cry and plead with your disgusting human obscenities, yet want no one to see you in such a state…

Kyle threw up again.

He groaned, disgusted at himself while the contents of the medicine and food in the toilet making him even more disgusted in its putrid manner that only flittered over his face with its smell the way lace curtains do with a slight breeze. He coughed, his lungs clenching in on themselves all the while forcing him to make a wheezing noise, the coughing so heavy and rough that it caused the taste of all of his contestants to rise to the back of his throat and making him feel sick while his mouth drooled saliva into the bowl right before he puked again.

"…Woah, dude!"

"GET OUT!" He quickly yelled, already knowing who it was… Who had caught him in such a disgusting state, his voice hoarse and not sounding like the one Stan had grown accustomed to. Regardless of his protest that had simply cause him to gag on his own words and forced air, Stan lingered in the doorway. "Um… should I get a nurse or…?"  
"_N_-" He gaged and coughed some more, refusing to let him see his face while he replied both times, the smell reminding him of how embarrassed he should be. He desperately clung to the malodorous container housing his rejected body parts that were half decomposed, his grip not nearly what it should have been, so he had to settle for wrapping one arm around its base while the other was slung loosely over the flat section that connected the seat and the water container as it's back, the perspiration getting onto his arm.

How many days had he come to see him now and kept missing this part of him? How many weeks had it been now that every time he had come over now, the worst he had seen was a coughing fit or a series of medicine he needed to take being ingested? How many? He considered himself lucky that that was the worst Stan had really seen from him. Stan couldn't hold his own damn food in his stomach when vomit was related, his gag reflex being activated by damn near anything, and it included this and he caught himself gaging at someone else throwing up, just the common sound not even having to see it, but went over and rubbed Kyle's back regardless, sure to not look in the bowl. "D-Don't…! Don't t-touch me…" He tried his best to speak tensing up once his fingers had landed on his back, sweat pouring off of him. He coughed again, wondering why he didn't have a muscled stomach with how much coughing he had done throughout his life, in its own right a painful exercise. "But you just said you didn't want a nurse, so you'll just have to settle for me." Kyle wined in protest, the noise never leaving his raw throat while he sniffed, the smell berating him and made him dry heave.

Stan watched his small shaking fingers numbly cling at the bowl, no strength in them, and even if there was, the constant shaking would have simply degraded that talent. He felt such a surge of pity for him that he wrapped one arm around him and held the hand loosely thrown over part of the toilet, the other one rubbing his shoulder, and arm, and part of his back, making his chest so easy to rest up if Kyle moved back in the slightest of motions. Kyle gasped for air after he was finished gaging, not enough energy to try to remove Stan from his person. "…I'm… I'm surprised you haven't hurled yet from the smell- _god_…" He hissed, shifting himself and being reminded of another source of it farther below the bowl as well as below his clothes. This was so disgusting… So terribly disgusting… Why would anyone want to put up with this? He should just die… God death would be pleasant… Sleep was impossible with the constant hacking cough that woke him as he shot straight up from its horrid force- the dark circles under his eyes proved this, but those were always there because he was always sick with something that kept them constant features of his person.

He burped, tasting his stomach's work and once again heaved with nothing coming out. "…Kind surprised too but… I guess I'm more worried about you than the smell…" Kyle chuckled, which turned into a groan with wheezing gasps at the irony of it all. "…You did _not_ just say that with a straight face." He chided. Stan furrowed his eyebrows. "…I did. And I meant it. And I honestly think it's because I'm _not _hurling with you- I've got a stomach weaker than anything you can imagine." Kyle coughed into his arm as to not do so all over Stan, said boy using the hand that had been rubbing Kyle's arm and the like to stroke his hair. "Ew, don't do that, there's probably vomit in there…" He protested, raising his hand that was devoid of any real strength or significant effort to hold the older teenager at bay. Stan ignored him and kept doing so while the shaking boy gasped for air with wheezing lungs who had the back of his hand rested limply on his collar bone in the only form of protest he could muster.

"…If you disappear, I totally get it." Kyle eventually said after a moment of almost nothing aside from the occasional sniff or cough. Stan looked at him confused. "Why? Because you're sick and threw up all over the place?"  
"…Among other things." Kyle admitted. Stan didn't know whether to be embarrassed or laugh at his unfortunate friend, so his body decided on laughter with a tinge of nerves. Kyle, also not knowing how to reply, just gave a nervous smile. "Dude… That's gotta suck wicked ass. I'll deal with your vomit and snot and drool and sweat and stuff, but there's no way in hell I'm cleaning that up. You're on your own with that." Kyle laughed at him, if anything more than necessary out of relief. Stan gave him a smile in return while is coughing turned into hacking, lightly pressing his mouth to his forehead while Kyle made noises that sounded like he was going to throw up on his shoulder, never once puckering his lips to the sickly boy's skin, but rested his mouth there regardless, still tasting a hint of human salt on his lips from his sweat, fingers threaded through his mess of ginger colored hair. He felt limp fingers grasp at his jacket.

He sat like that for a minute with him, taking note of how light he felt, how much he kept shaking, every time he sniffed or coughed. How many times he breathed in and out, which times he hissed the most and so on, all the while the smell wafting up out of the toilet to berate them both in its horrific glory… He listened to him live, as broken and painful and disgusting as it was, but did it was a kind of fondness… "…You think you're good now?" Kyle sniffed and pulled away, nodding. Stan nodded sternly in approval. "Okay." He flushed the toilet and grabbed some tissue that was nearby, wiping his nose with it while Kyle made a dissatisfied face, making Stan chuckle at him, which only resulted in it deepening. He stood up, patting Kyle's head like a pet of sorts, and went to go get a nurse.

Kyle watched him leave, the only sound left was his wheezing, desperate gasps for air, everything feeling leaden while he processed it all. …He said he wasn't going to leave. He had just seen him and all of his sickly majesty and said he wasn't going to leave… There was a feeling that welled up inside him, and it was almost crushed by the numbness in his throat and the clenching of his chest, but he felt it regardless. He couldn't quite place it, but he was aware of it. Maybe he had coughed one too many times and it was starting to take its toll, or perhaps he was going to throw up again, or maybe even something worse, but contrary to his worries, nothing happened and the feeling left him as soon as Stan came back with a nurse who gave him such a look of pity he could find something within himself to throw up all over her…

Stan waited out in his regular hospital room while she helped get him cleaned up, Stan listening to his constant barrage of protests to her the entire time with a smirk on his face. The water was turned off and the nurse left the room soaking wet, tossing the towel at Stan. "_You_ have your hand at him." She hissed, clearly pissed off he had soaked her and messed up her hair. Her heels clicked feverishly out of the room, a slick sound and a nervous call as she feel and then cursed into the air over it. Stan pursed his lips as to not laugh and closed the door behind her, going into the bathroom afterwards to be greeted by a soaking wet red head, sitting at the bottom of a hospital shower, sitting ever so casual with a proud grin on his face. "Hey." Stan chuckled and approached him with the stark white towel as if he was going to bag him with it like a wild animal. "Did you have to go that far?"  
"Oh please, you know you found it funny. Besides- what the hell am I supposed to do for entertainment around here?" Stan put the towel around him and picked him up, Kyle squeaking and instantly burying his face in his shoulder out of embarrassment. "You're a cynical little shit, aren't you?" He half-heartedly lectured, carrying him out into his regular room and setting him on the bed, crouching down in front of him and taking a second towel to his hair.

Kyle stared numbly at him with wide eyes that were like raw vegetation that had been flecked with dirt from something like a bird hunting for its pray underneath it. He gently ran his hands in small circles to dry it, taking note of how some of his hair would trespass on his pale face and highlight his freckles. He caught himself smiling at him, but only after Kyle asked him "What?" in a harsh tone. The smile was instantly gone and Stan shook his head. "Nothing. You're just…" Really? Was he seriously about to call another guy "cute" God he should be gut punched by a running back or something… "Just what?" Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow, curious as to what he was going to say. Stan was quick to cover it up, the question triggering something. "Bi-polar. Seriously you were just hurling over that damn toilet like you were gonna die and honestly looked the part, the second the nurse goes in there, you'd think you were just some spoiled kid who was here for a visit or something. Kyle looked almost hurt as he avoided his gaze and choose the mute décor over Stan. It was quiet for a minute while Stan dried his hair, the other towel draped over his shoulders and covering the rest of him, his small frame being enveloped by it all aside from a bit after his knees. Kyle mumbled something Stan didn't quite catch, in all honesty, the fact that he had broken the silence made him not expect it, so he hadn't been listening for it. Kyle tried again, only a bit louder.

"…I think… It's because the most upsetting part about this is that I'm not just doing this once or twice or during specific seasons… It's all the time… I'm always like that… And because of that, I'm never allowed out of here, no matter how much I say I'm feeling fine that day, and even if it's true… They don't listen, and I've wasted a day of me feeling fine inside… It's not fair… The least they could do is let me spend the good days outside, even if it's by the doors or _something_… I just… It just stresses me out so I always get mad at them, even if they are just trying to help me- but god damn it if I'm gonna die from going outside then should I just go out and get it over with already and just di-"

"_Stop_." Stan snipped harshly, cutting him off. "Don't. Don't you dare." His tone was thick and harsh, dark and so distantly cold… "Don't you even _dare_. If you ever say anything like that again, I don't care if your fucking coughing out your damn internal organs, I _will_ smack you." He glared at him harshly, a fire ablaze in his blue eyes. Kyle studied them and wondered if he had been shaking like he was now when Stan picked him up earlier- if it was out of fear or sickness…? He glanced away and attempted to bite at the inside of his bottom lip, but his chattering teeth wouldn't allow it. Stan sighed and stopped drying his hair. "…I'm sorry…" He stood up and hugged him close to his chest.  
"I just… In middle school I had this friend… We were friends before that too and… I think there was always something wrong with him but he kept it deep down for a while… But he would keep telling us all these weird ass stories about how he couldn't die and would just go off and it was so grotesque and violent and… Everyone thought he just snapped after his mom died because before that his older brother was stuck in jail and his dad was shot by the police while he was high on meth and my friend got stuck taking care of his little sister and they were poor as dirt… And to try to prove a point, he went home and killed himself, but you can guess how that went…"

Kyle's eyes widened while Stan told him this, feeling terrible and regretting the fact that the words that had prompted him to tell him this had left his mouth. "…And it just hurts like fuck because one day, someone you know, someone alive and warm, as shitty as their conditions may be, just up and grows fucking cold and stops moving and rots and it hurts because there's not a _damn_ thing you can do about it… Especially if they did it to themselves, directly or not…" The last line was directed at him… "And I know I don't have any right to say that shit, but I honestly believe and I don't want anyone I know to end up dead, no matter the reason." He finished, pulling away and looking down at Kyle, who's wide green eyes looked back up at him, harboring regret, while a drip of water that had escaped the towel threatened to fall off of a strand of his hand and land on his nose and trail down in a way that would have resembled him crying. But sure enough… He opened his mouth to reply and his eyes had become glossed over while he stuttered with the air. "…I… I'm so sorry…" Stan sighed and hugged him again, letting Kyle burry his face in his chest. "I didn't mean what I had said- honest… I was just really, really stressed out and I couldn't ever tell anyone… I'm sorry…" Stan kneeled back down and dried his tears pressing their forehead together- he smelled like cheap hospital soap… He pulled away while Kyle kept crying and feeling like shit and finished drying his hair, all the while the small boy trying to understand why the world outside of his window was so unfair kept wiping a relentless stream of tears from his face…

"I won't ever do anything stupid like that, I promise… I'm sorry… Even if I'm stuck here forever, I won't… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Stan felt like shit for making him cry, but also felt numb because he had been trying so hard not to be angry with him in the first place, the emptiness lingering against his will…

He helped get his clothes on, all the while he was sniffing and still trying to dry his tears, but they were relenting now, Stan being gentle in his actions, watching his wide, swollen red eyes stare at him while he gasped for air and sniffed hard through his nose. He went into the bathroom and got him some tissue, handing it to him while he set up a nearby nebulizer. How many times had he watched him put this thing together? Too many because he was doing it perfectly… Kyle blew his nose while Stan connected a tube and put liquid medicine inside of it, offering the mouth piece to Kyle, who hadn't realized how hard he had been wheezing until he was offered the relief from the disturbance. He wrapped his mouth around it, tissues still in hands, and Stan plugged it in and turned it on, the small box making a humming noise while the mouth piece let off a form of steam from the opposite end whenever Kyle breathed out, Stan held the trash can up for Kyle to throw away the used tissues, which he complied to. Stan sat on the bed, Kyle keeping his eyes dead ahead so the medicine would flow properly.

Stan opened his mouth to say something, but ended up letting out a sigh, looking at the boy who had just sat on the edge of the bed with his swollen, glossed over eyes looking empty at the wall and hands in his lap with no purpose to be had while the mouth piece sat clenched between his teeth to keep in place, wheezing every time he breathed in, the medicine already making his body shake. He pulled him over by his head and forced him to rest said body part on his shoulder. The medicine sputtered while Kyle looked up at him, confused, but didn't verbally do anything. Stan didn't look at him, just adjusted them so that way he and Kyle were sitting at the head of the bed, Kyle half on his lap on his right side, closer to the machine. He rubbed his shoulder with his thumb, staring at the wall. God he was such an ass and even more so because he didn't even apologize for making him cry… But…

After a while, the machine sputtered and stopped giving off its air since there was none to be had, but Kyle hadn't turned it off. Stan looked down at him and found him asleep, head angled down and resting on his shoulder. Stan blinked at him with wide eyes, but let it melt with another sigh into something resembling a smile and turned it off, taking the mouth piece from him and setting it on the table, careful not to ruse him. He pulled the blanket out from under the both of them and covered Kyle with it, gingerly adjusting his head so that he would appear to be more comfortable and not end up with a kink in his neck when he woke up later. With all of that puking and sweating and resistance and crying, he must have been exhausted… For a minute, just for a minute, he gently threaded his fingers through his hair and kissed his head, staying there longer than he needed to and taking in his smell, murmuring an apology to him.

You coward… You can't even do it when he's awake, and when you do say it, you barely even heard it leave your lips…


	4. You Promised Me This is Love

_It's still not quite the way it was  
But you promised me this is love  
So stay…_

Stan was resting his arms on the bars of his balcony, taking a drag in a cigarette after a moment of pause. Some may find his actions on the disturbing side considering they were essentially discreet stalking as he watched Kyle in the window while his family was visiting, but there was nothing much else to be watching out in such a desolate little part of town, so he continued watching the window for small flickers of fire colored curls. He could have invaded with the visit considering he wanted to see Kyle as well, but it wasn't fair to constantly be stealing his attention away. His mother was less hostile as time went on taking into consideration how many times and how frequently Stan visited her son as well as mentioning how much happier he seemed to be. He finished his cigarette, smoking it down to the filter, before going back inside after smothering the faint embers of it on the rail, a faint hint of white in the general location marking that was a place he had put out numerous amounts of that cigarettes companions.

He sat down on his cheap couch, the springs groaning in protest while he put his booted feet up onto the small coffee table while he picked up some college work he should have had done a while ago. Even now, he felt so put off by it that he ended up staring at it and rereading the same question various amounts of times before it landed back on the table. He got up and wandered into the kitchen, rummaging through a barren fridge in hopes of salvaging something. He sighed and closed it after his search warranted nothing but rotten fruit that found its new home in the garbage, checking his phone for the time to see how much longer had to wait before he went to work. He could have easily asked his parents for some money, but his pride wouldn't allow such a thing, and even if it had, they had already given him the money for the down payment on the house as well as the first two months' rent, he could barely ask for any more than they had already given him, pride or lack thereof.

He dragged himself back to the work he owed his professors, then back out to the balcony for a cigarette, but found himself lacking and distracted as well as distant, so he groaned and ran his hands through his charcoal hair, deciding against his better judgment to go visit Kyle while his parents were there. Even as he made his way across the street with his fingers buried in his coat pockets, he couldn't help but lecture himself about how he needed to stop using the poor sickly thing as an excuse to escape from everything, no matter how convenient or how much he honestly found himself in a desperate need to see him the way a man with lack of water, even as little as two percent, could easily become at such a loss and a desperate want or he would surely die with lacking.

He signed himself in, the nurse greeting him by name while he gave her a polite nod as he wandered to the familiar room. There was laughter and a degradingly harsh tone to stop fooling around like that as Stan knocked on the door. His face had been in good season, but it instantly brightened to the point where the one he was directing such a smile at felt his heart jump and the lack of oxygen in that instantaneous moment flow straight to his brain and make him be overcome with such a heat that he almost was on the floor if not out of his own mind. "Stan!" He was greeted with a chipper tone while he wandered in, keeping a decent distance.  
"Jeeze, you make it out like I didn't visit you yesterday or all week with the way you just lit up- Christmas is next month, keep a lid on it till then, yeah?" Even though he had planned to stay a decent distance from him out of respect, he found himself gravitating towards him while he chuckled at him, showing him a whole barrage of teeth. "Nice to see you too." Stan shrugged, hands still kept in his pockets, a smile playing on his mouth while he eyed a dull, peeling wall. He had come close enough to Kyle for said boy to reach out and grab him- which he did, pulling him down to his level to hug him, making a verbal yelp of protest exit out of Stan. "…Kyle that's so gay." Kyle stuck his tongue out at his little brother, but clung to Stan none the less, who was working on removing his hands from his pockets to hug him back to get away from him as quick as possible in order to avoid as much motherly wrath as possible. He wrapped his arms around him in a delicate manner, pulling away almost as soon as he had placed them on him. Kyle however, wasn't keen on letting him go, so he had latched onto his coat tail with his index and thumb finger, making Stan sit on the bed with wonderments of which torture device his mother was going to use on him in the coming future.

However, the small chatter had resumed with Kyle resuming the last conversation without missing a beat, everyone talking, including Stan after a certain point of getting over his personal anxiety, until they were all told visiting hours were over. Kyle was hugged good bye by his parents and reluctant little brother- whom he gave a rough fist treatment to his head for not showing him any affection of his own accord- and was given a lingering hug to Stan that he was absolutely positive his mother watched while barring daggers into his back while his father and brother went ahead to the car. He left, giving him a wave and a promise of coming back tomorrow, Kyle asking if he could come by with breakfast again, Stan's eyes darting over to his mother, just making him laugh. "She's my mother- not the devils incarnate- as shocked as you may be." He said in a mocking tone. Stan tensed while Kyle continued to laugh at him, his mother hovering by him. "As long as there's not too much sugar Bubala, I don't mind." Stan almost snickered out loud at the nickname, Kyle noticing his reaction and instantly flaring.

Stan was stopped by her on his way out of the front door. "Stanly!" He paused and turned on his heel, waiting for the red headed woman to catch up to him. "…I just want to say, I've been noticing how tense you are around all of us. You don't need to be, really. If anything, I'm glad Kyle has a little friend- even if he does tend to hug him longer than he should and gives him these side-long looks from across the room." Stan felt his face grow hot and his stomach start to disagree with him, but he found her laughing at it. "I just… I just don't want him to be hurt. You already see how my poor Kyle is, and more emotional strain would just…"

Stan felt the urge to speak up as he watched a worried mother bite her lip. She had been the one to have him and had to watch him be taken from her the second he even came into the world and kept in a cocoon that smelled of antiseptic from thereafter. She had been the one who couldn't watch her son grow up the way he should have, visiting him like a parent who had been divorced to a large estate of blood and needles that had custody of the ginger colored porcelain doll a simple few floors above them. "I won't. Trust me- I won't." He reassured her. "He told me that he had people who would occasionally visit him for whatever reason and they all ended up just stopping… I don't know if it's because I've got such easy access to the hospital or what, but if that's all it is- which I highly doubt- then I promise I'll never move from there." She watched him in a way that someone would watch a theatric play without words, trying to understand what was happening, hoping their thoughts were correct. "…Why do you think that's not all it is- being close by I mean?" He found the words rising up to his throat quicker than any bile or otherwise that had ever come from the same passage.

"Because I like him and I guess it just feels natural to be around him and be happy that way and because of that I want him to be happy around me too." She watched him, as if the show had taken an unexpected turn that caused her to blink in disbelief, as if to wash away the words, but considering words were meant for the ears, her eyes were of no use in that current moment. Maybe she had been trying to blink away the boy who had let what appeared as a confession to leak from his mouth like fluid water if not something more relaxed with such an ease it almost shocked her; a boy who had just told her he wanted her son to be happy, simply because he was in his company. She stared at him for a moment longer with the shock still coursing through her body with fresh volt currents, her own tension making Stan feel his stomach reel and cause him to turn his head and vomit all over the pavement of the front entrance.

That simple act of grotesque sickness caused her to laugh at him and go over and rub his back while he continued to expel the contents of his stomach. "There, there. No need to get so worked up over it all." She continued to rub his back while the putrid smell rose to his nose, only making him vomit more. Once he had nothing left to heave, he gaged and wiped the back of his mouth while Kyle's mother gave him a hearty pat on the back that one wouldn't expect from a woman, much less the mother of a sick child that caused him to forcefully step forwards once.

"…I'm glad." She spoke after a moment of them standing there awkwardly with his large puddle of discolored food and acid between them on the ground. He looked at her a bit confused. "That you like him so much. I was always so worried for him… That he'd end up doing something reckless because he went and got so lonely all by himself… A mother can only do so much for him, you know." Stan nodded, not knowing what else to do. "My poor Kyle needed someone his own age to talk to and I was worried he was never gonna get that, so I'm glad…." She wanted to keep the sentence running, but as a woman with intuition, it was always best to never let men onto what you knew, no matter their age, or they would deny it so out rightly that she'd be proven wrong. It was best to hint at it and give these looks that only true confirmation would make them squirm under. Never the less, she knew. She knew very well how Stanly Marsh felt about her son, and he basically had admitted it to her, which was why she was so shock ridden, even if the boy didn't realize the underlying meaning to his words, or if he did.

Still… She was happy, simply because she knew Kyle was happy being with him; The boy who had caught him from the window he had feel from, accidental or not. The boy who climbed into the same bed as him and let her son sleep on him. The boy who brought him food he wasn't allowed to have with secretive smirks. The boy who was fully aware of how sick he was, and yet still kept by his side without even so much as a mask over his face to keep himself from catching cold. The boy who knew what he needed most when he was throwing up all over the bathroom and made him feel less horrid about it- oh yes, she had heard. The boy who hadn't been able to contain himself from wandering over to his side, even with her glares and little brothers taunting and fathers questioning looks. The boy who had held his hand the entire time behind their backs, thinking she wouldn't notice, just to make him happy.

The boy who she knew very well was in love with her son and he the same feeling for him, and she was perfectly okay with that, even if it took them both forever to realize it.


End file.
